


Heavy (In Your Arms)

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Series: Navy Nines Human AU [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Romance, F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, M for content, M for language, M/M, Online Dating, Oof! alert, Other, Past Relationship(s), RK 900’s name is Kenny, Romance, Simon is a catfish, Simon wants revenge, pls read chapter tags, what could go wrong?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-02-21 17:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18707086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: Kenny is feeling the monotony of his very structured life when he (at the behest of his friends and family) decides to try online dating.Simon is feeling the pain of a broken heart when he (over the objection of his friends and family) decides to try online dating. As someone else.!READER DISCRETION ADVISED! This title is rated M for the following possible triggers: depression, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, questionable private photo consent/usage, catfish/false identity usage, sexually explicit content





	1. Prologue: My beloved was weighed down

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to remember to post triggers as needed for chapters but know that this is going to be written as carefully and delicately as possible so as not to trigger or offend. As such, please read each chapter note before reading and if you miss a chapter or section and want a summary, you can always drop a comment or find me on discord as daisypwrites. 
> 
> All aboard the pain train!

“Hey, Mark?”

The man in question looks up from his hands, which are picking idly at the white linen of the cloth napkin still in his lap. “Hey, love,” he whispers, offering a lopsided smile that doesn’t reach his eyes which are mismatched in their color but incredibly beautiful.

Simon thinks, not for the first time, that it isn’t fair. Markus is beautiful with his warm dark skin and dark hair cropped close to his head, lithe muscles and strong build, like an underwear model in a Times Square poster. But the thing that everyone always notes about him is the fact that his eyes are two different colors, both of them unique and beautiful. He couldn’t have one normal brown or gray eye and one pretty eye. No, he had to have two jealousy-inducing eye colors: one earthy green, with flecks of melting gold, deep emerald and clay brown--to the point where sometimes Simon can’t tell whether the damn thing is brown or green, an outer circle of dark brown holding in all the melted green and gold like some kind of cup. The other eye is one that induces jealousy for Simon, what with his gray eyes that always seem colorless in the mornings and make his complexion even more pale and cool. The damn thing is icy blue, flecks of gray which he’s memorized during countless days and nights over the last four years. Markus jokes that Simon plays favorites with his eyes, and Simon freely admits that he’s right. The arresting blue-gray of Markus’s eye is ringed with dark cobalt right at the edge of his iris, almost making his iris look like some sort of 3D glass marble art.

He’s rich and well connected, his father being a famous artist and his mother working for some politician (Markus always jokes that he came by his love of politics naturally) whose event they’re attending tonight. Markus has spent most of the night working the room, shaking hands and letting his parents introduce him to key networks or whatever, but after walking inside, he seemed so...

“Simon?”

“Oh,” Simon mutters, flushing at getting distracted by his own train of thought. “I just… you seem off since we got here. You alright?”

Markus’s father glances over at him also, having noticed his mood.

Markus smiles a dazzling smile meant to distract them, but this time, it doesn’t work on Simon. When Markus realizes it, he sighs. “Please, don’t worry about it, okay?”

Simon frowns. “Okay,” he says. “Dance with me?”

Markus stands and holds out his hand politely, guiding him into a crowd of dancers and securing a space for them to dance, their bodies pressed together. Simon honestly loves this man and pulls himself close, feeling the heady rush of intense affection mixed with attraction.

Which is why he’s confused when Markus puts space between them, pulling back and rubbing his head. “Uh--hey, I’m sorry love, I… have to use the bathroom.” At least he leads Simon back to their table before ducking out of the ballroom, his shoulders sagging.

Simon doesn’t think, he slips out of the ballroom after him, watching from a distance as Markus approaches one of the police officers that was outside. The younger man’s police hat is on a table where he now sits, staring dully into a cup of coffee.

“Connor? Connor, I just wanted to...”

“Wanted to what?” Connor, who is apparently the police officer in question, sounds so tired, like he’s run four marathons in a row without stopping.

“Just... to say hello." He sounds painfully awkward. "I haven't seen you in almost four years—I didn't really think I'd never see you again, but then I didn't. Well, until now, so...”

An awkward silence ensues, and Simon uses the time to think. He’s heard the younger man’s voice before, seen the warm, dark brown flop of hair that is now mussed by the use of his hat. He leans back before he can get spotted and thinks back through all the years it’s been since college, and maybe even during college. Something tugs uncomfortably at his memory, but it isn’t clicking into place.

_ I haven’t seen you in almost four years… _

Simon swallows. He’s been with Markus that same amount of time. Markus left his boyfriend to be with him… and that boyfriend’s name was Connor.

Simon wants to cry but he doesn’t.  _ Of fucking course  _ Markus would recognize his ex and get all shaken up because they broke up in order for him to be with Simon, who is now on his arm and wearing his ring.

He rubs the ring with his thumb, but it doesn’t bring him any comfort.

“How... have you been?” Connor eventually asks.

“I... okay. Good, I think.”

“You're... not sure?”

Markus chuckles. “Not really. I didn't realize you were planning to be a police officer,” he says after a while.

“I wasn't. I was going to go to CSI school.”

“What changed your mind?”

Connor shrugs. “My dad said something to me that made me rethink a lot of things, I think.”

“You're not sure?”

“I'm not sure about a lot of things,” Connor says. “Like why you're here and not in the ballroom with your boyfriend.”

Simon winces. At least the guy doesn’t seem interested in getting to know Markus again.

_ Stop lying to yourself,  _ Simon chides himself.  _ He’s obviously angry because he’s still hurt.  _

“Fiancé,” Markus corrects in a whisper.

“Oh.” Simon’s entire chest heaves at the way the syllable falls from the younger man’s lips. If the situation were reversed, he’d be in that much pain, too.

“Well then...”

Connor heaves a tired sigh. “What, Markus?”

“Well then what are you sure about?”

Connor stands up, suddenly angry. He tosses his cup neatly into the trash can and meets Markus's mismatched eyes, the ones Simon loves so much. “The last thing I ever told you,” he says, "but that doesn't matter now, does it?" And then he stomps out the lobby door.

Simon goes back to the ballroom, holding back tears.

He isn’t angry at first, not when Markus sits in silence at their table, not when he pulls Simon aside and asks for his ring back. He isn’t angry until he goes out of the ballroom again and finds Markus ensconced firmly in Connor’s arms


	2. I was a heavy heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny is literally desperate enough to try tinder, of all things.

“Hey Anderson, heading home soon?”

“Not yet, Sir,” Kenny says, standing up as his commanding officer passes by his desk.

“You’re here late again?”

“Lab sent me the results late. Didn’t want to fall behind.”

“You’ve always had a superior work ethic, Anderson. You keep your team efficient and timely and you have no problem picking up the slack. You’re a treasure, boy.”

Kenny ducks his head a little, unused to the high praise. “Thank you, Sir.”

His commanding officer isn’t taller than him, but definitely older and somehow bigger. His name is Allen, but Kenny has never referred to him as anything other than Sir, even off base or at home by himself or with other friends that aren’t military. He still considers the man to be quite close to him.

The first time Connor got shot, he’d burst into the man’s office in a panic, begging for leave with tears in his eyes. “Sir, P-please, I need to go home, I need to go--I have to go, please, please...”

“Calm down, son,” the man had said, standing up and guiding him into a seat. “First off, who the hell gave you permission to enter? Did you knock? Second, what the hell crawled up your ass?”

“M-m… brother,” Kenny had hiccuped. “Police-m-man, robbery. Shot, h-hosp’tal. D-dying,  _ please _ ...” He couldn’t even get out the whole sentence without hiccoughing and sobbing like a baby, so he tried to get the main words out, but those just made panic’s sharp claws swipe at his spine and insides again.

Allen had personally booked him his flight and approved the leave, and called twice a day every day to check on updates on Connor’s condition. When he got back to base, he’d knocked on the door and waited for his CO to invite him in. He stood in front of his desk and saluted the man, issuing the most sincere thanks he’s ever issued to anyone in his life.

“Just don’t come bursting into my office like that again,” Allen had gruffed. He’d returned the salute and then motioned him into a seat. “Kick my door down, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Yes, sir,” Kenny had grinned.

“You thank your brother for his work from me, you hear?”

“I will, Sir. Thank you.”

Now, a couple of promotions later, Kenny looks up to the man in ways he wishes he could look up to his own father. While Connor still idolizes the man, Kenny only finds him to be flawed and unbalanced, and he doesn’t have the energy to deal with it. Allen is stern and expects the best from his people, leading them with almost assholish strictness, but Kenny sees the care, structure and intelligence in the way he speaks to all of them. 

He wants to be the kind of leader that Allen is.

Although right now, if he could put three bullets in Allen’s brain, he’d choose to put four in instead.

“Hey, what are your plans tonight son?”

“I’ve got none, Sir,” Kenny says flatly. It’s not the first time they have this conversation, so he is already over it.

“I don’t want you to burn out. Make some plans, Anderson, that’s an order.”

“Yes, Sir,” Kenny mutters dully.

“What was that?”

“I said, yes, Sir,” Kenny says louder. He still sounds dull, and now he’s pissed.

“Don’t you catch an attitude with me. I know you don’t do much around here.”

“This is a boring state.”

Allen laughs. “I’m sure an intelligent, no-hold-barred military man like yourself can find something or someone to do. Didn’t you tell me your brother managed to settle down?”

“Well he’s older, it makes sense he’d settle down first,” Kenny protests, feeling a little cornered. “Besides, who says I don’t find someone to do when I want to?”

“Alright, alright, point taken. Just… take care of yourself alright?”

Kenny sighs, feeling bad for his attitude. “I always do.”

“Alright I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Good night, Sir.”

* * *

Facetiming with Connor and Gavin at night doesn’t make things much better.

Connor spends most of his time fully snuggled into Gavin’s chest, and Gavin spends all his free time petting Connor like he’s a damn kitten, which is ironic because they have two cats. It’s so sweet it makes his teeth hurt. He’s happy for his brother, though.

Markus had been a selfish boyfriend, to be honest. He left a trail of heartbreak in his wake, and he didn’t feel like Connor’s too-open personality would do well with a taker like him. Gavin, when he’s salty, calls Markus the rich pretty-boy, and Kenny can’t help his agreement.

Gavin has good reason to be salty. He’s been in love with Connor probably since he got shot the first time, his hovering over Connor’s hospital bed honestly giving Kenny a complex at first. They’ve been friendly since, though, and he’s seen with his own eyes how Gavin guards Connor with his life. It’s a pure, intense kind of love that Connor reciprocates in kind, and the two have been inseparable since… first as first friends, and now as lovers.

Sometimes, it makes Kenny sad. He had that once, but he was so desperate to get away from it all and leave everything and everyone behind that he’d almost destroyed his relationship with his brother… and completely ruined his chance at that kind of love with that girl.

“Hey, asshole.”

“What, dipshit?” Kenny snaps, and it comes out harsher than he meant to. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“What’s up your ass?”

“Well at least I don’t have to ask who’s up yours,” Kenny mutters. 

Somewhere off-camera, Gavin cackles. “You know what they say, ‘once you tap ass…’”

Connor makes a face. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes.”

This time, Kenny joins in Gavin’s laughter. When it finally dies down, he says, “Thanks, Con.”

“Anytime. Will you tell me what’s bothering you?”

“It’s… not anything, really. My CO pointed out for the third time this week that I have no life outside of work.”

Connor snorts. “You don’t.”

“Gee, thanks,” Kenny mutters, his mood souring again.

“I get it,” Connor says quietly. “Even Gav and I… what we do consumes everything sometimes.”

“It’s not that. I fucking sit at a desk and analyze ship parts. It’s actually fucking boring.”

“Only you would say something like that,” Gavin says, finally settling onto the couch and basically manhandling Connor into his lap, a motion that is only depicted in the video chat by some grunts, a huff, some “ow—” or “wait—” sounds and a “Gav!” and lots and lots of shaky-cam. When Kenny can see again, Gavin is fully wrapped around Connor and is probably the one holding up the iPad. Connor looks so happy, it’s like he ate the sun and it is now glowing from somewhere in his esophagus. He curls against his fiancé and smiles for all the world like the contented kitten Gavin shoved out of the way to pet him instead.

Kenny rolls his eyes when Gavin presses his lips to Connor’s temple in a gesture that is probably supposed to be soothing but only comes off as way too fucking cute.

Gavin sighs. “Look, your CO probably worries because it’s his job to make sure his people are 100% for work, right? Maybe you need a break.”

“I’ll get one once these tests are done! You know the drill.”

Connor nods. “I get it, really. But… part of all of this, Ken, is just figuring out the balance.”

“How do you guys do it?”

“Together,” Gavin says seriously. “A lot of times decompressing is just doing something completely unrelated to work together.”

“To be honest, sometimes decompressing is doing something completely unrelated to each other.”

Kenny snorts. “Doubtful.”

“It’s not,” Connor shrugs. “Think about it. When your meet your friends from work, you end up talking about work, right?”

Kenny nods, frowning.

“Gav and I literally did the exact same thing all day, together until we moved in. If he had to chase a perp, so did I. If he had to drive around and patrol, I’m in the car with him. Even now with different partners, we still hear everything going on over the radio. We get home sometimes and don’t have anything to say, because we already know it all. Sometimes it’s good for us to go our own ways and do stuff with other people who aren’t cops, and aren’t… well, Gav.”

“Yeah, I guess I can see that.”

“What Connor means is, you need new friends.”

“Hey, my crew are awesome!” Kenny protests.

“I’m not saying ditch your old friends, dumbass. I’m saying, find other friends that align with some of your other interests. The ones you have  _ outside _ of work.”

After a moment, Kenny concedes the point. “Okay, fair.”

“Or go on Tinder and find someone to fuck.”

Connor chokes, his eyes widening. “W-what?! Gav!”

Gavin shrugs. “It’s true. Geez, when was the last time you even got laid?”

Kenny admits that he honestly can’t remember. “I… don’t know, okay? I’m not really a ‘going out to fuck’ type—although I don’t mind partying but I haven’t done that in a long time either.”

“That’s a problem. Your social life is shriveling up like a prune. Put yourself out into the world, man.”

Connor frowns. “As much as I disagree with the tinder idea, I agree.”

“It’s a good idea!” Gavin says indignantly.

“What? Don’t you know how many catfishes and thieves and serial killers—”

“Have you seen your brother? I think he can handle himself.”

“Well he shouldn’t have to! Kenny if you decide to go on Tinder I want to run background che—”

“Why the fuck—”

“I need to make sure they won’t kill him! Or steal his shit, or kidnap him to wipe all his bank accounts after giving him Devil’s Breath, or worse, pretend to be someone he liked but then end up being some crusty gross old man steepling his fingers in a dark creepy room while trying to steal your innocence!”

Kenny snorts. “You’re seriously warped—”

“Really? Your brother, the fucking Navy Tank?”

“No, I just watch news! Well—and MTV, but still!” Connor says, glaring indignantly. “And I don’t care if he’s bigger than the statue of liberty, if someone tries to catfish or sex-traffic him, I’ll be forced to commit some serious crimes—”

“That doesn’t make the case any better.”

“It’s my job as the older brother.”

“Honestly, I think he’ll be fine.”

“Fuck you, Gav.”

“With pleasure, Darlin’,” Gavin answers with a leer an a cheesy grin.

“You too, dipshit!”

“No thanks,” Kenny snorts.

“Offer still stands…”

“TMI.”

“Honestly, I swear, I don’t know why—”

“Okay bye, you two fucking lunatics!” Kenny yells over the oncoming argument. He hangs up on their overly-adorable bickering and mulls over what they told him.

Kenny is an adult. He understands the concept of balancing his work and social life, alright? He’s not an idiot. But… most of his social life comes from work and not much else. Sure he’s bought his team drinks at the end of a long project, or gone out with his closest friends and colleagues, McCray, Mitchell, and Kayes, and loves them dearly, but he’s never actually attempted to—

McCray is calling him, actually, right now. “What’s up?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can.

“What the fuck is up with you, Anderson?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dude we’ve been trying to get you to come out with us and you keep blowing us off! And just now you sounded like someone shot your dog.”

“I’d like to see someone try,” Kenny mutters darkly.

“You don’t have a dog.”

Kenny shrugs, thinking of his father’s slobber monster, Sumo, which he’d adopted some time after he and Connor moved out. “I should get one, don’t you think?”

“Main point being, what is your damage lately?”

“I don’t know, man. I guess I’m just too tired these days to be social. My brother’s boyfriend suggested that I should make a Tinder account to, and I quote, ‘find someone to fuck.’”

“Well he’s not wrong. Will you hit a bar with us tonight? Come on, one drink, scope the place out for cuties, flash your sweet baby blues at ‘em, get a few numbers. I’ll be your wingman.”

“Ugh, do I have to?”

“You sure as shit do!”

“I sure as shit do not.”

“Okay well then let me come over and get you started on tinder.”

“I think I know how to make an account on the internet,” Kenny says dryly.

“Uhm, no. You obviously need someone to help you with profile pictures and writing your bio.”

Kenny gives up. “I don’t need your help picking up ass, dammit. I’ll see you at  _ Gringos and Mariachi’s _ . If you’re dragging me out for drinks, you’re gonna buy me Mexican food and you’re not complain about it.”

“Fine, fine. See you there.”

* * *

Making a Tinder account is not generally advisable, but far less so when you’re drunk.

Kenny sits on his phone and fiddles with his bio, posting three photos that he thinks show his best interests: one of himself in his navy uniform, one of him swimming at the beach with Connor, and one of him with his friends playing pool, probably drunk judging by the amount of beer bottles in the frame.

He decides to chat Connor on FaceTime and show Connow what he’s done, feeling quite proud of himself. “Okay, look. Bro. Look. Listen dipshit. Gavin was right. I can’t… get...  _ laid _ .”

Connor just arches an eyebrow. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” Kenny mutters, petulant. “Look at my shit! Do you think it’ll be, you know, hot? For chicks. Or whatever.”

Connor looks it over and smacks his hand over his face in an emphatic facepalm. “I think it’s basic, and why would you put your look-alike in your profile? You’re going to get all kinds of gay twincest propositions, guaranteed.”

“I love you, dipshit! But I’m not fucking you ever. Like, never ever  _ ever _ .”

“Likewise I’m sure,” Connor snorts. “Will you please go drink some water and sleep this off? You can call me when you’re not suffering through work with a hangover and we can sort this out.”

“I want you in my profile pictures, you matter the most to me.”

Connor softens. “I love you too Kenny, but I’m 90% sure it won’t go well for you if you leave it there.”

“Aww,” he pouts. His blue eyes water, dangerously glassy and sad. “You don’t wanna know which of my dates like you? I would only date someone that thinks you’re a cute, special, adorable asshole and I will shun all others!”

“That’s very sweet, Kenny, and I love you for it. I think you need to go to sleep and pick this up tomorrow.” 

“Fine,” Kenny grumbles, hanging up on Connor and deciding to go it alone. His stupid brother won’t be of any help.

In the morning, Connor is already blowing him up, a complete detriment to his poor ears. “What? Holy fuck, what?!”

“You… are you alright?”

“Oh. I’m fine! Why are you blowing me up?”

”What the hell happened last night?”

”I’m not sure. I just know that it went badly.”

”What do you mean?”

Kenny shrugs.

”You sent me screenshots of... a tinder account?”

”I actually made that huh…”

“Yeah,” Connor snorts, “and you need to let me choose your photos.”

“Not a fucking chance. I like these!”

“You look like an asshole. Shirtless beach selfies and pictures of you drinking with me or your friends won’t get attention except from bimbos--and I already told you that that picture of us swimming is going to get you really awkward propositions.”

“Ugh. Fine, choose my photos. You have my google password right?”

“Yes, I’ll look and tell you tonight. Also, Gav says he wants to see your bio.”

“God—why does everyone think I need help with online dating?”

“Because you literally never date in person, much less through an online platform. Now stop bitching and let us help you seem less like an asshole. Or a robot. It’s kind of a toss up.”

Kenny sighs. “Fine, whatever.” He texts the tinder password over too, regretting opening the damn account.

* * *

Gavin hated his bio, but thankfully he and Connor crafted something that sounded a lot more like him and a lot less like a douche. Connor chose a few photos for him, which he replaces his shirtless and party pics with. He still hasn’t deleted his photo with his brother, he absolutely refuses to hide the person that makes his time on this shithole planet worth anything, as a matter of principle.

It takes a couple days for people to start swiping for him. He realizes quickly that most are just looking for quick hookups or something casual. He doesn’t mind that, really, but he would rather not get involved with someone that comes off as…  _ sleazy. _

His email is constantly flooded, which is annoying, and when he gets home from work he has to spend like twenty minutes just deleting people he doesn’t want to talk to.

One day, almost a month later, Connor asks him, “how’s the tinder bit going, by the way?”

“It’s shit, I hate it.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. You were right, it was a bad idea. Probably gonna delete it.”

Connor sighs. “I’m sorry, baby brother. I got excited for you for a minute, there. I don’t know, there’s something about… about finding the right person that way that is… well, it’s dreamy.”

“If by dreamy you mean kind of exotic and more than a little bit kinky, then yeah I agree. But I don’t know. Does that stuff ever actually really  _ work  _ for people?”

“For some,” Connor says thoughtfully.

Kenny grudgingly admits, “you were right about the twincest though.”

“See, I told you.”

“I’ve blocked like twenty-eight people already.”

“And we’re not even twins,” Connor says, and Kenny can tell he’s smirking.

“Fuck you,” he snaps.

“Nope. You already blocked all the people that offered.”

Kenny heaves an exasperated sigh. If they were video-chatting, Kenny would be flipping him off.

“Aww, wait it out a little bit longer, baby brother. Don’t get discouraged yet. If, from here to maybe like another month you don’t see yourself talking to people you actually like there, go ahead and delete it. But at least try. You never know.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Always, asshole.”


	3. I’m so heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon is bad at heartbreak. Truly, he sucks at it.
> 
> Jason gets a text message from “he thinks I’m boyfriend material”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Markus was attracted to Simon’s wealth. Besides the fact that Simon is both a sweetheart and a sassy little shit, Simon comes from a wealthy, well-connected family in his home state. Markus… well, Markus networked his way right out of Connor’s pants. Yikes.  
> Here we have Simon dealing with heartbreak in a very healthy way, sleeping around and getting drunk and high off his ass. That was sarcasm this is not healthy and please proceed with caution.

Simon spends a lot of his free time screwing around with faceless, nameless boys—plenty of gay hookups from Grindr and Tinder, and plenty of straight-but-curious drunk guys from parties or bars, all of which too full of cocaine or ecstasy to notice that their blowjob is actually coming from a man. He’s even had some straight encounters with females that give okay blowjobs or are kinky and will peg him or something. 

Simon has always been great at blowjobs, though. He fucking loves them. The straight guys are lousy lays, so he just blows them and sends them on their way, leaving them to wonder what the hell happened last night. The gay ones always appreciate his skill and his complete lack of shame or gag reflex.

He wakes up in his Beacon Street penthouse with no memory of how he got home and his PA in his face, bright blue eyes narrowed. 

Jason Sullivan been his best friend since childhood, although the younger man was raised on the South Side. Naturally, his prissy, ‘boys like you should never abase themselves to people like him’ parents disapproved of the friendship, but Jason has drive and intelligence, which he used rule his high school by trading information, drugs, food, anything in exchange for what he wanted. He had been in a dark, dark life for a while, having run away from his shitty stepdad and couch surfing for most of high school. Eventually, Simon moved into an apartment near Boston College, and Jason became his roommate. Loving the fancy digs, Simon let him keep the place when he ditched Boston for a college in Detroit. It had been a win-win. Jason had a steady place of his own, and Simon got to escape his ‘richer and holier than thou’ parents and have a normal college experience. 

Now Jason is his right hand, using his incredible skills to analyze and collect information as well as his super organizational skills to keep Simon’s life from falling apart. He also directly manages his own team of assistants, PR people, and coordinators who all fear for their lives when they’ve fucked up because Jason’s righteous fury over fucking things up for ‘the Blonde Overlord’ is legitimately the kind of bullshit they show on television when the mean CEO makes some poor employee cry and run away.

Honestly, Jason is probably his real boss too. Not only does he schedule and maintain all of SImon’s calendar, meetings, phone calls, and emails, he also updates Simon on key important business details, and even runs interference with the owner of the marketing company he works in as an executive--one of their youngest.

The story of Jason’s life, really, is staying in the shadows and helping Simon shine. Simon makes sure that he makes it worth Jason’s while--he might be a lot of things, but he will never let his friends feel used or abandoned, not like  _ he  _ made him feel.

“Hurry the fuck up will you?! I’m fucking starving and you made us too late to go for donuts before your meeting.”

Simon glances at his nightstand and curses. “Fuck! Why didn’t you wake me up—”

“Don’t even start! I have been  _ trying  _ for the past twenty minutes. I already have your stuff at the airstrip for your flight to DC, but you need to be in this meeting  _ on time  _ if you have any hope of getting in the air in time! The pilot says he’s going to be wheels up at exactly two PM and not a minute fucking later! He says there’s weather problems and that’s the latest we can leave so get your  _ shit  _ together.”

“Alright, alright! Let’s go, let’s go, Jesus!” Simon stumbles out of his bed and into his closet naked as the day he was born, giving Jason the view of his short life. 

“Oh—fucking hell,” he mumbles, averting his face and squeezing his eyes shut. It’s not like he hasn’t seen any of that before—hell, back when Simon was still trying to figure out the extent of his sexuality, Jason had volunteered to be his first gay experience in exchange for a thousand dollars, which bought him a new wardrobe and school supplies, a PlayStation and some games, and few weeks worth of food and rent to give to his couch-supplier of the moment.

Jason had liked it plenty, though, and now keeps a regular roster of boys in his phone, all with obscene names like ‘fat cock,’ ‘loves blowjobs,’ and ‘daddy’ among other things. Lots of people in Simon’s social circle would pay to have someone like Jason for a night, and Jason takes full advantage of this as well. Those guys are in his phone as ‘5k per night’, ‘kinky fucker, at least 10k’, ‘asshole, charge him extra’, and ‘literally pays 3k just to flirt w me in his fancy dinners’.

Yes, personal assistant of Marketing Executive Simon Brennan, the only son of the wealthy, connected Brennan family of Boston, doubles as a male escort. Simon never judges. Hell, he’s had an escort or two in his time. Before Markus, anyway.

_ Markus.  _ His chest aches and his head pounds… he can’t tell now if his body is protesting the hangover or the heartache. Markus had been charismatic, winning him over almost instantly and winning over everyone he knew, too. Markus spent a lot of time with him in his events, Brennan Family Charities events, or other such things. He realizes now that Markus was only there to make connections. If he’d been anyone else, Markus might have left him behind like he did with that asshole twunk ex of his… what was his name?  _ Connor _ .

Simon has to take a breath and remind himself that he’s too early and hungover to start the day seething. “Happiness is a choice,” he tells himself. “Happiness is possible. You just have to choose it for yourself.”

“Can you hurry the fuck up?!” Jason yells. He sounds like he’s in the kitchen maybe, most likely rummaging through his fridge for food.

“Can you shut the fuck up?!” Simon yells back. It’s not as effective with his toothbrush still stuffed in his mouth.

* * *

Jason’s cell phone buzzes, a text message from ‘he thinks I’m boyfriend material’. Jason swipes toward the right, opening the text message with an uncharacteristically sweet smile.

“Who is  _ that? _ ” Simon asks immediately, trying to grab the phone. He barely catches the words,  _ it’s already boring without you here. When are you back in Boston?  _ out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, it’s boring without you, huh?” he teases Jason.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jason laughs, his cheeks pink. “It’s just… some guy.”

“You are going to tell me everything.”

“I met him on Tinder, okay? And we’ve been chatting for a while but never really made anything serious.”

“What’s his name? Where does he live? Where does he work? Does he want to fuck you for money?”

“Fucking hell! What are you, my dad?”

“You wouldn’t want me as your dad.”

Jason shrugs, making an expression that reads, ‘oh, true’ and says, “You’re right.”

“Fuck you,” Simon laughs.

“Why did you delete Tinder again?”

“I’ll tell you when you tell me his name and where the dude lives.”

“Fucking fine, his name is Ellis Harmon and he works in the Prudential Building. That’s all I know okay?”

“So business guy? Government worker?”

“I haven’t asked okay? I am not gonna  _ date _ him.”

“I don’t know, those cute pink cheeks say otherwise.”

“Fuck you. I’m not  _ cute.” _

“I bet  _ he _ thinks you’re cute.”

Jason rolls his eyes, but does not argue anymore. “Can we change the subject?” he asks instead.

“Sure,” Simon answers brightly. “I made a decision.”

“What’s that?” Jason asks warily. When Simon says he’s made a decision, it’s usually an emotional impulse.

“I want revenge,” Simon says simply.

Yep, there it is. “Honestly…”

“Those two ruined my life. I want to hurt them back.”

“Your life is fine,” Jason says, already irritated with this. “You’re fucking rich, guys fall all over themselves to fuck you. You have your pick of anyone you want. Why can’t you just let it lie?”

“Because…”

Jason frowns. “Because you need closure?”

“Markus showing up at my house when I’m drunk isn’t closure.”

“You’re right, but somehow finding ways to hurt them won’t help.”

“I’m gonna find them on instagram.” Simon basically ignores everything Jason said. If it was lucky to make it in one ear at all, it went straight out the other.

“Si—” Jason gives up. “Suit yourself.”

“I sure will.”

* * *

 

Only three days into this endeavor, Simon is already frustrated. “They aren’t even together anymore! What was the fucking point?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I found that  _ Connor _ guy on instagram--” he says the name with spite “--and he’s with some other dude, an older guy. I mean, the guy’s hot. They seem to really love each other. On Facebook it says the guy’s name is Gavin Reed, their status is engaged.”

“Good for him and good for Gavin Reed,” Jason says. “What are you talking about?”

“Based on what I saw on Facebook, the guy is a cop too, and they’ve been together since probably like three months after Markus broke up with me.”

Jason snorts. “He wised up quicker than you, then. What do you wanna bet that other cop wanted to screw him for the longest and was there to ask him out the second Markus fucked up?”

“I wouldn’t take that bet, you’re probably right.”

“So much for revenge on them, then.”

Simon sighs. “Yeah, so much for that.”


	4. Over The Waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> simon comes up with his plan.  
> kenny meets someone worth talking to on tinder.

“YES!”

Jason jumps, almost falling off his chair and gripping his Apple mouse in terror. The office had been deadly silent for the better part of two hours while Simon prepared for a board meeting presentation. “WHAT?! What the fuck?!!” he yelps, barely able to keep himself in his seat.

“I’ve got it!”

“You have an idea for your presentation to the board?” Jason asks, frowning.

“No, Jason. I’ve got my revenge plan.”

“Oh, for fucksakes. I thought you dropped that days ago! You have a meeting in twenty minutes, shouldn’t you be going over your notes? Making sure your slides won’t fuck up?”

Simon grins sheepishly. “Can you check my slides?”

Jason rolls his eyes, his black hair flopping into his face as he re-settles back into his chair. He retrieves the appropriate PowerPoint and sighs. “Simon, this looks—holy fuck.” He sets about checking it, whistling his positive impressions through his teeth. “Wow,” he finally says after a few minutes. “God, why can you produce things like this when you’re such a fucking moron?!”

“You don’t want to hear my plan?”

“Whatever it is, it’s a stupid fucking idea and you shouldn’t do it.”

“That guy’s brother is single.”

Jason is silent.

“It’s brilliant, isn’t it?” Simon gloats.

“Whatever you’re thinking, please just don’t.”

“What? It’s just a little catfish. I’ll find him on tinder or something with a fake name. I’m already image searching his facebook profile to see if he’s on any other social media too.”

“I’m—God, please just fucking don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because everyone is over this except for fucking you,” Jason snaps, standing up at his desk and turning the full force of his expression at Simon with one icy-eyed glare. “Connor Anderson probably doesn’t even remember you. He’s marrying some guy and left Markus eating his dust and _you should do the same._ ”

“What? Marry some guy?”

“Literally anything but this,” Jason hisses. “This is a stupid idea. You’ve been warned.”

Simon sighs. “Fine. I’ve been warned. Now help me see if he happens to be on tinder.”

Jason doesn’t move.

“Well?”

“I’m not helping you hurt that guy. You do whatever you want. I don’t want any part in this fucking train wreck.”

“Jase…”

“Don’t ‘Jase’ me. I love you, you’re my best friend and my brother, and you’re a fucking mess and you don’t see it. You keep doing dumb shit to yourself and you don’t see yourself circling the drain, but I see it. I just hope it’s not too late when you realize it too.”

Simon is quiet until his meeting starts, but he does find the profile he’s looking for on tinder. _Well, if I was circling the drain before, I guess I’m in the shit water now._

* * *

 

There’s yet another message in Kenny’s account when he gets up. He contemplates opening it, really. But he decides against it. But honestly, he’d rather run.

Staying in shape is something he’s proud of. He’s been running since middle school, working himself up to ten miles a day by his sophomore year of high school. It started, honestly, along with the resentment he has for his father. Drunk, slovenly Hank always touched a deep chord of pity, anger, and frustration inside him. They used to argue often as a result. Hank thankfully was never the type to get abusive with either of them, but Kenny thinks that probably just makes things worse. The man knows he wasn’t a good father, and that his attempts were washed out by the copious amounts of bourbon, scotch, beer, or any combination of those. They argued often as a result, especially once Connor moved away to be with his boyfriend.

So he ran. He ran until he couldn’t anymore, and then he’d run home. Eventually, that distance became longer, more meditative, better planned. He taught himself discipline, and he thrives in it now, having added an entire strength training and bodybuilding routine to his daily ten-mile runs.

His father’s lack of discipline disgusted him back then. Now, it just makes him sad. He is sure that lack of self-control is what drives broken people like his father to addiction. Lack of self-control, and lack of care. He decided a long time ago that he won’t end up that way.

Today, he decides to run his morning miles on the treadmill in his basement. After that, he goes over to his mat where he runs through flexibility and agility exercises that he’s found helpful to keep him from getting too sore after tough workouts or lose flexibility or range of motion as he builds muscle. After half hour of those stretches, he moves on to free weights.

The heavy metal does wonders for clearing his mind. He pushes past the protest in his muscles with determination, something like adrenaline mixed with elation rushing through his veins as he completes each of his sets. It’s amazing to feel his body lighting up as it adjusts to the demands he places on himself. After a final cooldown run of only a few minutes, he showers, letting the water run lukewarm. It’s meticulous, but it’s relaxing. He shaves and retrieves his uniform, and he’s ready for work and out the door by 6:30 in the morning, the little notification on his phone forgotten.

It isn’t so easy in the evening, though. Work was mentally exhausting, dealing with Allen up his ass and some systemic computer failure that will probably set them back a week behind schedule. He sighs. Showers. Meditates. Eats. Sits on his couch to watch something--probably something mind-numbing and violent, but whatever.

Kenny is honestly starting to feel the monotony of his schedule--or the loneliness of it, he’s not sure. Maybe both. As much as he prides himself in sticking to his routine with intense discipline and strict accuracy, he is getting tired of doing the same thing every day, all the time. He decides to dedicate his weekend to something different… maybe a road trip, maybe a--

Nevermind. He’s working on Saturday to try to get the team caught up.

He sighs.

He pulls out his phone—flirts with the idea of opening the goddamned tinder message—and calls Connor. “What’s up, fuckwad?”

Connor laughs, flipping him off. He flips the camera to show Gavin waving, and then flips it back. “What are you doing, dipshit?”

“The usual,” he says, and Connor’s smile falls.

“Aww—what’s wrong? Are you okay, Kenny?”

“Nothing, I’m just… I don’t know. Bored.”

“Gav and I have the next weekend off, if…”

“No, no. You… stay with your sugar daddy, it’s fine.”

Off-screen, Gavin cackles. “I’m a shit choice for a sugar daddy. I got no sugar.”

“But you’ve got plenty of daddy.”

Gavin reaches in front of the camera to flip him off, and they all laugh.

Connor smiles at him beautifully, the kind that lights up his whole face. Kenny smiles too. “I’m happy for you, Con.”

Connor’s face falls again. “Ken, if you need me…”

“I’m okay, I promise. Just kind of stressed. Work sucks and there’s nothing to do.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor says. “Surf the internet?”

“No,” Kenny says, scowling. “You know I hate that shit, it’s for people who waste their fucking time.”

“It’s the fucking 21st century and he says the internet is a waste of time.” Gavin cackles. 

“But yet, he has a tinder account.”

“Yeah, and I waste an hour of my life a day deleting people I don’t want to talk to!”

It’s Gavin that speaks up.“He’s not wrong, though,” he laughs. “Look, Asshat, I don’t know what’s—let me see.” There’s a shuffle, and then Gavin’s face appears on his screen. His face is serious. “It sucks that you’re so far away, man. You’re Con’s family, and mine too, and we want to help you. Whatever’s going on with you seems like you’re just feeling tired of doing the same shit over and over, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Kenny says eventually, and the admission deepens his sudden sadness. “I’m… always here, always by myself. I’m just in a funk, I’ll get over it.”

“Yeah, but how? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know that you’ll be okay but… how are you gonna do that? By keeping on doing the same nothing every day?”

Kenny frowns. Gavin’s right.

“Look… you need a hobby or something. I mean—most people your age, single, in college or fresh into their careers, they use their cash to just do shit they like—travel, go do dumb shit, party, I don’t know. My point is, you’re working just to work, doing everything you do but with no purpose. Find you something to do and a community to do it in, and take that up a couple times a week. It’ll exercise your brain doing something new, and maybe you can socialize once in a while and not feel so bored. And maybe, just maybe, once you pick up something you like, the stress from work will be less suckish.”

Kenny thinks about this for a long moment. “Maybe you’re right. I need… not just a break. I need to give myself breaks to do something else. But… I don’t know. I… what would I do?”

“Anything you want,” Gavin says, smiling.

“Hey Ken?” Connor asks somewhere off-screen. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I’m fine, you fucking worry-wart. I love you too.”

“Okay, okay,” Connor acquiesces. “But… I mean, you can always—”

“Don’t. Stop worrying, okay? Thanks for hearing me out and letting me interrupt your tenth date night this week.”

Both of them laugh. “There are only seven nights in a week, loser!”

“My point exactly, buttmunch!”

They banter back and forth for another minute or two before Kenny hangs up the FaceTime call, thoughtful. 

He grabs a notebook and starts listing things he likes to do. He has always liked cooking and baking—it’s something he’s done with Connor since he was practically a baby. Growing up, when he realized that they cooked because their father wouldn’t (or would suck at it), he still found himself feeling good when he cooked. 

He likes exercise, obviously, but he dismisses it as a hobby idea. He likes exercise, but he does it because he feels that it helps him stay in control of his mind and his body, not _because_ he likes it.

He likes dealing with mechanics. He could pick up something like a fixer upper car—the physical labor of the mechanics is definitely way better than the advanced science of it that he deals with at work. 

His mind circles back around to cooking, though. He takes his health seriously, and the things he’s taught himself to cook have all been things that he finds to be healthy in some way.

He gets in his car and goes to the bookstore. The girl looks him up and down more than once as she talks to him, and he asks her about health food and health cooking books.

She chatters about how she has never been able to keep a strict diet in her life, and Ken half-listens, not really interested in somebody who doesn’t possess enough temperance to say no to one hamburger one day, and reaches the section he wants.

The girl hangs around chattering while he picks six books and walks to check out. Put out, she leaves him alone, but not before issuing one final, plaintive, “hope to see you around again!” He waves and smiles at her, but doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t matter, she still flushes bright pink.

* * *

 

He’s been reading for about one hour when he gives in and opens the message.

_Your pictures are great. I’m glad you matched me, Kenny._

Kenny’s eyebrow crinkles. It’s not outright hitting on him, but the compliment is clearly meant as a flirtation, but it’s also not sexual. It throws him off enough to grab his interest.

_Thank you, Danielle. What a pretty name to match the pretty face._

_Aww thanks! That’s so sweet._

Kenny smiles. He types away at his phone quickly, not noticing that he’s lost his page in the book he was reading until after the thing slips to the floor some time later, landing with a thud that makes him flinch.

He glances at his nightstand and his eyes get wide.

_Wow, we’ve been chatting for an hour! It’s way past my bedtime._

_Aww, that’s too bad. All the real fun happens after hours._

_You know it. Sadly, I have to be at work by 0700 so if I don’t sleep now, I’ll be a zombie._

_0700? Oh right, you’re in the Navy, you guys use that weird time._

Kenny laughs. _Once you get used to it, it’s actually easier to remember._

_How so?_

_Well, a clock only has 12 hours on it. Once you hit 13, it’s automatically afternoon, so you don’t have to have annoying conversations like “7am or pm?” all the time._

_Huh. That’s valid._

_And efficient. Military is all about efficiency and all that._

_Now I know you’re just bullshitting._

_Lmao I am. Good night, pretty Danny._

_Good night, baby ;)_

_Will I get to chat with you tomorrow?_

_Definitely._

Kenny plugs in his phone and closes his eyes, grinning until his cheeks hurt.

* * *

 

Simon plugs in his phone and closes his eyes, grinning until his cheeks hurt.


End file.
